Where'd You Go?

There is one story that keeps repeating itself like a broken record amongst military spouses.

You have a life.  You marry into the military.  You try to continue your life.  You move.  Incubate a couple kids.  Move.  Give up on work.  Volunteer.  Do all the "right" things.  And then...

You look at yourself in the mirror and wonder where you are.  Not geographically, although after a while it is a tad difficult to remember just what state or country you are in, but where did you, as a person, go.

In order to not dig too deep and end up miserable the rest of the day, I make jokes to myself.  I ask how I've been, was sabbatical nice, why did I not write to me, was the food good because the constant chicken nuggets and pizza while hubby was deployed sucked, learn anything new because the ole gal could stand to pocket a few new tricks, and if I was going to leave me for so long, the least I could have done was get some sleep...the bags under my eyes are terr-i-ble.

I don't think military spouses are alone in this.  I do, however, think that our constant moving can either be a detriment or an aid in our personal development.  Partaker of the glass half empty?  You have to start ALL...OVER...AGAIN.  It is so hard, why bother when you are just going to move again in two years? On the glass half full side of things, with every move we have the opportunity reinvent ourselves.

This is not only true for after a move, but if you are facing a house without nap time, an empty nest, the outgoing squadron commander's spouse, the women who lose a role or job they have finally gotten a handle on...all abrupt changes where you are a bit adrift, floating out into the distant pity party for one.

Personal growth in the military life can be easily marked by time frames.  Example: During two years at Hanscom, both boys began school full time, I began substitute teaching, and I finally joined the Spouse Club because it was the first time they didn't seem to be a bunch of self absorbed biotches. That base was the base where I began to remember me.  And then we moved.

With each chapter ending in life, I have a mini pity party and only I am invited.  When my baby began kindergarten, I balled my eyeballs out.  For the past 7 years, my main identifier was 'mom'.  Now I was free!  I could do what I want! and watch whatever I want! and eat whatever I want! and use the bathroom without a little fist knocking at my door!  And I was miserable.

I could have continued falling fallen into a pit of despair and self-loathing.  I could have become a naggy harpy wife who made damn sure everyone under our roof was as miserable as I was.  Could have. Many many times.

It has taken some years, but have learned when I am presented with a change to my life that I should grieve...take time to mourn the loss of that world I was comfortable in and the routine that accompanied it.  Then I put on my big girl panties, step outside my comfort zone with a volunteer or part-time job, start taking long silent walks/jogs with my dog, and a begin something new, like weekly coffee with other moms or a blog.  I become a different Heidi.  A better more well rounded Heidi.  A Heidi more equipped to deal with the uncertainties of military life.

The key is understanding that while my physical role as mom decreases, their emotional need for me is really just now warming up.  I have to be mentally capable to deal with all the crap they bring home with them from outside our home.  So I better take the time while they are in school to fill whatever tank needs filling, whether it is household duties or getting my gab on so I don't chatter my husband's ear off the minute he walks through the door.  My hours for the role of  'mom' : 6-8am and 3-8pm.  The between time is for 'me' to decide.  How nice.

With each move, the process repeats.  Can't help it.   I read once that the average person changes careers an average of five times during their life.  Chances are I will surpass that average within the next ten years, if you consider stay-at-home-mom and over-volunteering career choices.

The good news is that I know it will happen and that I will get over it.  The bad news is trying to figure out just what am I going to do different next time around.